


It's not like it's his birthday or anything.

by AidanChase



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU
Genre: Birthday, Fluff, Gen, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 18:58:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AidanChase/pseuds/AidanChase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason doesn't celebrate his birthday, so why should they? He doesn't expect them to. He definitely doesn't care. Birthdays don't really mean anything....</p><p>(Rated G but there is explicit language.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's not like it's his birthday or anything.

Jason didn't count his birthdays anymore. It wasn't about feeling heartache because no one else cared about his birthday. Hell, he didn't care about his birthday, so why should they? It was just that his birthdays didn't feel real, exactly. It's kind of hard to explain to someone who's only lived once.

So when he went out for patrol, it was just any other night to him. It wasn't like he intentionally stalked Batman and Robin. They just happened to have the same run tonight. So it was pure coincidence that he happened to be scoping out the docks at the same time they stood one level above him, maybe scoping out the same dock, maybe not. It wasn't like he hacked the computer systems for cases and criminal files. Please. It was way easier to access the GCPD files, anyway, even if they weren't as complete.

So it wasn't like he wanted to overhear their conversation. He just... happened to.

"I told you not to be so rough," Bruce admonished his protege harshly.

Jason laughed silently to himself. Bruce was and always would be a critical asshole who couldn't give anyone a compliment.

"Sorry. I'll remember to go easy on the serial child molesters next time."

"It's not about that. It's about control. The fine line between justice and vengeance."

Jason rolled his eyes. Because beating someone's skull in was alright as long as you did it with a clear head, even if it had the same effect as doing it in a blind rage.

If anyone in that damn family had potential to be something great, it was Damian Wayne. He hated seeing something so bright go to waste with someone like Bruce. Once upon a time he would've said the same of Cassandra Cain, but he figured her for a lost cause at this point.

"I know. I don't let something so frivolous cloud my judgement." 

At this proximity, he even heard Damian pop his knuckles. It was a miracle Bats didn't know where he was.

"Indignation isn't frivolous. Even anger is a good. But it's a self-control that keeps you who you are, that differentiates you from those you fight."

Jason's hands tightened into fists. What the hell did Bats know about being a hero? Washed-up, old-fashioned. This mission was bull anyway, and he wasn't going to stick around for it.

He thought about leaping out the window, showing off to Bruce, smirking at him from behind his mask, letting an wordless glare say all the things he wanted to say. But it didn't seem worth the effort.

He took the back fire escape instead.

In an effort to cheer himself up, he beat down a couple of would-be muggers and broke the neck of at least one rapist. Everything got a little red and blurry after the third or fourth, so he couldn't be sure.

He crawled back into his apartment just as the sun was rising. He ripped his mask off and tossed it on the floor, then rinsed his sweaty face with the tap water from the kitchen sink.

And then he really looked at his apartment. Fucking streamers over the window. He tore them down and then walked into his bedroom. Well, fuck. At least the balloons would make good target practice.

There was a note on his bedside table.

"I know you hate parties, Jay, but I didn't want you having a pity party alone. There's a present for you in your freezer."

There was no name, but a blue streak at the bottom told him exactly who it was from.

"P.S. Tim helped, but he'd never admit it, and we figured you wouldn't want to know he was in your apartment, so, pretend I never told you."

Jason crumpled the note up and threw it in the trash. He went straight to his freezer, prepared to throw out whatever it was Nightwing had left him.

Instead, he ended up on his couch with a pint of neopolitan ice cream and The Matrix playing on his laptop. Well, it just seemed like a waste to throw out a year's supply of ice cream. And he might as well eat something while he watched his favorite movie (and not because he went and saw it three times in theaters with Dick).

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing from Jason's perspective, so constructive criticism is SERIOUSLY appreciated. I mean, I always want critique, but on this I'd really like character development critique.


End file.
